Nowheisdistendedwithmegalomania，nowheisdeflated，nowheisquarrelsome，nowimpenetrablyself-satisfied，butalwaysheissudden，jerky，fragmentary，energetic，and——insomesubtlefundamentalwaythatIfinddifficulttodefine——absurd。
Therestandsout——becauseofthetranquilbeautyofitssettingperhaps——atalkwehadintheverandaofthelittlepavilionnearmyworkshedsbehindCrestHillinwhichmyaeroplanesandnavigableballoonswerehoused。Itwasoneofmanysimilarconversations，andIdonotknowwhyitinparticularshouldsurviveitsfellows。Ithappensso。Hehadcomeuptomeafterhiscoffeetoconsultmeaboutacertainchalicewhichinamomentofsplendourandundertheimportunityofacountesshehaddeterminedtogivetoadeservingchurchintheeast-end。
I，inamomentofevenrashergenerosity，hadsuggestedEwartasapossibleartist。EwarthadproducedatonceanadmirablesketchforthesacredvesselsurroundedbyasortofwreathofMillieswithopenarmsandwingsandhaddrawnfiftypoundsonthestrengthofit。Afterthatcameaseriesofvexatiousdelays。
Thechalicebecamelessandlessofacommercialman’schalice，acquiredmoreandmoretheelusivequalityoftheHolyGrail，andatlasteventhedrawingreceded。
Myunclegrewrestive。”Yousee，George，they’llbegintowanttheblastedthing！”